


Making Promises

by jawsandbones



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Night before final fight, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, black eagles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawsandbones/pseuds/jawsandbones
Summary: The night before the final fight, Byleth and Yuri seek out each other.“I was looking for you,” Byleth says in that low, barely-audible whisper of his. His voice is a landslide, rocks tumbling into a canyon. Yuri feels the back of his neck unexpectedly heat at the sound of it. He watches as Byleth turns on his heel, marching back to the entrance of the tent. He kneels down briefly, tying the knots to keep the flap closed. Then he stands, his head still bowed, his hands clenched in fists at his side. When he turns back around to face Yuri, his face is neutral, his breathing even. Yuri stands up straighter at the sight of Byleth looking at him underneath dark lashes.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	Making Promises

He can hear the muddy footsteps approaching before the tent flap opens. A distinctive sound of its own, letting in a cold breeze which shudders over the few torches and candles lit. Yuri, his back towards the opening, looks over his shoulder. “You’re late,” he says, his shirt in his arms, his skin covered in gooseflesh, “Where were you?” He turns around completely, leans back against the small table and lets one ankle cross over the other. He is careful not to tip the bowl of water behind him, a damp cloth hanging off the edge of it. Yuri’s skin glistens newly clean.

Byleth’s shoulders heave. His cheeks are flushed, a twinge of sweat on his brow. His long boots are flecked with mud, and he’s wearing those tight trousers which sit high on his waist, a tan colored oversized tunic just barely tucked into them. His pale green hair is disheveled, and he takes another step forward into the tent before pausing. He studies Yuri for a moment, from the curls of purple hair which rest against his collarbone, to his bare chest where water still drops, and the half unbuttoned trousers. Yuri smiles at his examination, and drops the shirt onto the rug beside him. “Your tent is palatial, you know. They really do save the best for the commanders, hmm? I didn’t think you’d mind me borrowing it, but I also thought you’d be here when I got here,” Yuri says.

“I was looking for you,” Byleth says in that low, barely-audible whisper of his. His voice is a landslide, rocks tumbling into a canyon. Yuri feels the back of his neck unexpectedly heat at the sound of it. He watches as Byleth turns on his heel, marching back to the entrance of the tent. He kneels down briefly, tying the knots to keep the flap closed. Then he stands, his head still bowed, his hands clenched in fists at his side. When he turns back around to face Yuri, his face is neutral, his breathing even. Yuri stands up straighter at the sight of Byleth looking at him underneath dark lashes.

“Well, you found me,” he says, smiling some as he crosses his arms, shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “What did you need?” Byleth’s hands slowly unclench from that fist. He moves the same way he does in battle. The hard push forward, the quickly closing distance – dead, before the enemy even knows Byleth is upon them. Not Yuri. He’s just in time to stretch out his arms, catch Byleth in the embrace. The bowl of water wobbles as Byleth crashes into him. Byleth’s hand moves against Yuri’s hip, to his back, captures him completely.

Byleth crushes his lips against Yuri’s. The kiss is harried, hurried, hungry. He smothers Yuri in it, devours him inch by inch. His teeth gently pull at Yuri’s bottom lip, and having created an opening, Byleth’s tongue presses into Yuri’s mouth. His other hand now winds in Yuri’s hair, grabbing a fistful, and pulling his head back. Yuri clings to him, his body curling against his, as Byleth’s teeth scrape against his neck. Hip bumps against hip as Byleth’s hand splays at his back, and Yuri’s fingers dig into Byleth’s shoulder. The moment Yuri actively resists, Byleth lets go of the grip he has on his hair.

Yuri drapes his arms over Byleth’s shoulder, pulls himself in closer as he seals the kiss. There’s a sense of unsettled urgency to Byleth’s every move. His hands cannot settle, moving up and down Yuri’s back, fingertips moving over the hills and valleys of his spine. They find the curve of his ass, tug him closer. Not that he minds, but Byleth usually isn’t _this_. Byleth’s touches are bold and sure, as if Yuri’s body is a battlefield, the tactics to conquer him already planned and set into motion. This is scattered, wary, and afraid to stay in one place too long, his touch finding false refuge on other curves. Byleth presses himself closer to deepen the kiss, while Yuri is pushing back.

It all amounts to Byleth taking a step back, their feet tangling as they twist, and Byleth quickly uses his hands to hold Yuri’s head as they tumble to the rug on the ground. Byleth is kneeling over him, straddling him, his hands still underneath Yuri’s head. Pale green wisps of hair float away from his forehead, dangle above Yuri’s face. Byleth’s eyes are wide, his breaths coming short and fast, his gaze moving all over Yuri’s face. Yuri puts his hand up against Byleth’s chest and says, “I’m fine.” That calms Byleth somewhat, enough so that Yuri can prop himself up on elbows. Byleth stays over him, his hands now resting against Yuri’s chest.

“I’m fine, but I suspect you’re not. You’re not acting like yourself,” Yuri tells him as he shifts his gaze away, the guilt painfully evident. “You need to tell me what’s going on.” The torches rage and burn above them, their only protection against the cool chill of night. The silence stretches on with only the sound of the fire and the occasional passing patrol to break it. 

“We’ll be meeting Dimitri’s forces on the field tomorrow, at Tailtean plains,” Byleth says.

“Yes, I know.”

“Logically, I know that there is nothing different about this battle than any other one than has come before. I was reading in my tent earlier and I – I,” Byleth frowns, stares downwards, and clutches at his own chest, “I realized that I hadn’t seen you for most of today, besides the glimpses of each other. I didn’t want the time we saw each other next to be on the battlefield, fighting. I had a – I had a feeling.” His knuckles are white as he squeezes, his hand trembling with the tightness of it. “I _needed_ to see you.”

“And you managed to set out to find me just as I was on my way to you,” Yuri says as he relaxes backwards, the smile light on his lips. “What unfortunately excellent coincidental timing we have.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Why are you sorry? I’m delighted. I think this is the most I’ve heard you speak in one go.” Moving his weight from his elbows to his hands, Yuri pushes himself to sit up. Leaning against one hand, he brushes the other at Byleth’s cheek, around to the nape of his neck. “I happen to enjoy the sound of your voice,” he says. How easily Byleth’s expression settles into neutral. It’s a rare privilege to see clearly what lies beneath. Today, Yuri is being presented with a feast.

Byleth’s thoughts turn and so his expression changes with it. The smile is some sad echo of a long lost thing, his brows stitching together with something close to worry. He raises his hands to the ends of the twin tails of hair which rest against Yuri’s collarbone. Yuri returns it in kind, curling a strand of Byleth’s hair around his finger, tucking it behind his ear. “You know, the day you showed up at Garreg Mach again, I thought I was dreaming. I had to be. There was no way you were still alive,” Yuri says. “You were one of Mercedes ghost stories come to life.”

“You just… walked up to me, and didn’t say anything. Making me do all the work, as usual. I had to touch you just to make sure my hand didn’t pass right through you. What do you know, you were actually real. You were alive, standing in front of me, as if you had never been knocked off a cliff into a ravine by a rampaging monster. I remember thinking that I gave myself away. That you could hear everything I was thinking just from my tone of voice. I regret telling you that it was because I didn’t remember your face. It was a cruel joke, to keep you from looking too hard beneath the surface,” Yuri says, unraveling all the work he had just done, musing Byleth’s hair.

“I shouldn’t have stayed at Garreg Mach. I should have cut my losses and tried to find some work somewhere else, in a place no one knew me. I opened that notebook of mine every day, and yet I couldn’t write your name. I didn’t know that you were gone. I didn’t want to know. I thought Edelgard was being foolish, acting as if she expected you to walk through the front door one day. Remind me to never doubt her again. Then I found out that Abyss was the first place you went, that I was the first person you sought out?” Yuri laughs quietly.

“For you it was five years,” Byleth says, “for me, it was a matter of opening my eyes.” Somehow, he manages to mirror the same expression he did back then – as if he were a heartbroken puppy.

“Don’t look so upset. I just told you I thought of you every day – that includes your face,” Yuri tells him, his hand returning to the back of his neck. He pulls their faces together, nose touching against his nose. “I’m glad I didn’t write your name.”

“You’ll never have to.” Yuri barks laughter at that sincere proclamation.

“That sounds like a promise.”

“It is.”

“And how are you going to keep it?”

“I’ll protect you.”

“Protect _me_? Have you forgotten we’re talking about you?”

“Stay by my side.”

“Now it sounds like you’re proposing.” Byleth falls silent at that, affixes Yuri with an earnest gaze. Yuri feels the heat rise up from deep within him, coloring his cheeks, reddening the shell of his ears. His nape burns, and the flush spreads in his chest. “Then, it’s a promise. The fighting tomorrow will go well and we won’t have to write any name,” Yuri says. Byleth nods as he leans forward, licking his lips, his tongue just barely brushing against Yuri’s.

This kiss is far more measured and careful, Byleth’s eyes close slowly, holding Yuri’s face in his hands. Yuri’s arms wrap around Byleth, find the hem of his trousers. He pulls at the last bit of resistance, that side of Byleth’s tunic which is still tucked in. Yuri’s hands now seek their prize underneath the freed tunic. Pinpricks of cold sweat still pepper Byleth’s back, the remnants of his run around the camp. But his skin is smooth, and although he is fairly slender to look at, Yuri can feel hard muscle underneath his touch.

Byleth’s thumb moves in a circle against Yuri’s cheekbone, as tongue presses against tongue. They intertwine, explore, seek out, and inevitably come back to each other. Keeping his embrace tight around Byleth’s waist, Yuri deftly flips them over, pinning Byleth beneath him. They end up underneath the shadow of the bed, Byleth’s hair flipped in a spiked crown around his head, stray wisps still moving across his forehead. “Hey,” Yuri says, “tonight. Did you want to –” His words trail off as he watches Byleth reach out, stick his hand between the mattress and the bed frame. Yuri takes what Byleth pulls out for him, and grins wickedly when he sees it.

“Did you plan this?” Yuri asks, accusingly holding up the bottle of oil in front of Byleth’s face. “Were you going to bring me back to your tent so you could seduce me?” Byleth’s hand winds into the bedsheet, and he pulls on it as he stretches, until that deeply red fabric clashes against Byleth’s hair. Byleth smiles, a smug and self-assured thing, as he arches his back and coils like a cat beneath Yuri.

“Yes,” Byleth says, his tunic raised and exposing part of his belly, his ribs.

“And they say I’m the schemer,” Yuri says as he puts the bottle aside for now, instead focusing his attention on that slip of skin. He kneels between Byleth’s legs, his feet hooked over Yuri’s legs. Yuri’s hands move over Byleth’s hips, fingertips now touching his skin, his thumb hooked into the hem of the tunic. He pulls it over Byleth’s head completely, and then folds, a hand against his side and his tongue running down the center of Byleth’s chest.

He ensures that Byleth memorizes his touch. His firm but gentle grasp, the way his hands glide over his body. He pays attention to all that needs attention, even more to places that don’t. Yuri’s thumb moves over Byleth’s nipple as Yuri’s mouth kisses the junction just underneath Byleth’s ribs. He undoes the buttons of Byleth’s trousers, and begins to pull them off. Byleth brings his legs around Yuri, to the front of him, pressing them together and raising them. It’s easy for Yuri to shuck the pants away, his arms quickly encircling Byleth’s legs.

There is power here, perfect and bare, felt in the way Byleth moves. His legs are long, graceful, and just as the rest of him, covered in tight muscle. He spreads Byleth’s legs apart as Yuri moves back, and then lies flat, going from his knees to his belly. He slips one arm underneath one of Byleth’s bent leg, keeps the other one pinned beneath his weight. He turns his head against Byleth’s inner thigh, and plants a wet kiss. His breath is warm against the ghost of it. Nevertheless, Byleth feels the shiver run through him.

Yuri takes his time, painting Byleth’s thigh in slow and sloppy kisses. He presses his teeth against his skin, biting him from time to time, but most often taking the opportunity to leave love marks. Byleth writhes, his cock painfully hard and twitching, the slit of it beginning to leak with his desire. Yuri instead fondles Byleth’s balls, rolling them underneath his touch, pressing kisses to the v of Byleth’s groin, enjoying hearing Byleth’s breathing suddenly hitch. The leg over Yuri’s shoulder tightens its grasp on him, his heel pressing into his back. “Impatient,” Yuri says as he presses his face against Byleth’s cock, opens his mouth, and runs his tongue from base to tip, causing Byleth to shiver.

Yuri reaches out, finds the bottle he had set aside earlier. He still has an arm underneath Byleth’s thigh, wrapped around his leg, hand holding onto his thigh. The other one removes the cork with his thumb, oil spilling over his fingers, onto the rugs which carpet the base of the tent. He closes his eyes as he puts his lips against the head of Byleth’s cock. His tongue slides over his slit, and on Byleth’s inhale, he presses slick fingers against Byleth’s entrance, and begins to teasingly massage him there. Yuri relaxes his throat, takes Byleth’s cock deep, already leaking bitter salt.

He feels it as keenly as he does pain. Physical sensations, they cannot be denied or smothered. A wound elicits a visceral reaction from Byleth. No blood spilled here, yet a reaction all the same. Byleth’s hips roll upwards, miniscule in motion, trying to hold himself back. His fist is fully wrapped in the bed sheet, twisting down his arm. Every inch of his skin feels feverish, even more so when Yuri finally pushes his finger inside, to stroke at a certain angle, a certain spot. Byleth’s eyes go wide, his free hand shooting down to tangle in Yuri’s hair.

It doesn’t bother Yuri any, still bent at his task. The pigment so carefully applied over his left eyelid is now smeared, a trail of fading color leading to his temple. He pays attention to the way Byleth’s breathing quickens, the soft gasps and moans which pepper the air. He adds a second finger, stretching and thrusting inside. Byleth’s hand trembles at the side of Yuri’s face, until – “wait. Yuri, I’m –” but there’s no hesitation as Yuri continues to suck his cock. As Byleth comes undone, he pulls his arm down and the sheet with it. It floats in air for a moment, before landing over Byleth’s legs, and Yuri.

Byleth, stars behind his eyelids, takes a moment to realize he’s just accidentally covered Yuri almost entirely. He lifts the edge of the blanket by his belly, and lifts it to find Yuri moving to kneel back, his hand raising to his mouth. He managed to swallow most of it, but a small line of cum paints his upper lip. He finds it with a swipe of his thumb, and licks his thumb and his lip clean. The blanket rests over his head, his shoulders; Yuri framed by a robe of crimson. “That went well,” Yuri says as he crawls forward, a cat stalking its prey, to kiss along the line of Byleth’s jaw.

Byleth reaches between them, undoes the rest of the buttons of Yuri’s trousers. His cock strains hard against his undergarments, against the back of Byleth’s hand. Yuri pulls the blanket off of him, bundles it up and moves to tuck it underneath Byleth’s head as a make-shift pillow. As he stretches out over him, Byleth takes the opportunity to pull Yuri’s trousers and undergarments down and off his hips, his hand moving over the smooth curve of his ass. At the sight of Yuri completely hard and leaking, Byleth’s own cock begins to come back to life. “Hey,” Yuri says, his hands now on Byleth’s hips, “roll over.”

Byleth nods before he turns, on his knees, resting on his elbows. Yuri’s taken the opportunity to take off the rest of his clothes entirely, and he pours the remaining oil over his cock, Byleth’s entrance. It dribbles warm down the inside of Byleth’s thighs. Byleth bundles the blanket beneath him, his cheeks almost crimson as he moves his face against it, hugs it tightly. Yuri’s hands find his hips yet again, gripping tightly as he grinds his cock against Byleth’s ass. “Are you sure about this?” Yuri asks.

“Yes,” Byleth is only barely able to look over his shoulder at Yuri, “yes.” Byleth’s legs tremble as Yuri’s cock finally begins to push inside. His touch slips over Byleth’s lower back, his ribs, and one hand moves top press against the floor so that Yuri can keep his balance. He kisses the sweat from Byleth’s back, his hair tickling against him as he makes a star chart with kisses. Well and truly deep inside Byleth now, he begins to thrust in earnest. The whole of Byleth’s body shudders at the sensation, his face pressing into the blanket.

He holds his whole body so tightly, afraid to let himself move. Yuri runs a hand over Byleth’s back, up and down his spine. A hand wraps around his waist. The other at his chest, hand splaying over his ribs. Yuri pulls Byleth up and back, against him. Byleth’s legs curl around his, toes pressing into the floor, his head resting back against Yuri’s shoulder. Skin slaps against skin thanks to Yuri’s tight thrusts, touch moving over Byleth’s belly, wrapping around his cock yet again. His other hand moves upwards, over the goblet of Byleth’s throat.

Warmth presses against warmth as Yuri hugs Byleth close, and he’s able to feel every single one of Yuri’s thrusts, the way his body rolls with the rhythm. Yuri pulls him into it, and Byleth begins to meet his thrusts, pushing his hips backwards into him. Yuri breathes by his ear, labored and hot. Byleth’s hand now wraps around his wrist, pulls Yuri’s hand away. He allows himself to fall forward, pushing away from Yuri, twisting until he lies back on the ground, the blanket underneath his head. Yuri stretches out over him, a hand moving to Byleth’s face.

“Does it hurt?” Yuri asks as his thumb wipes away the tears which roll down Byleth’s face, “should we stop?” Byleth reaches up, brushes the hair away from Yuri’s face. He bends his legs, lifts them, and wraps them around Yuri, locking his ankles together behind him.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he says, “don’t stop.” Yuri leans down, his lips gently pressing against his, the kiss tasting of tears. Byleth groans as Yuri finds his entrance once again, pushes back inside. Yuri wraps an arm around Byleth’s waist, where he arches his back. His other elbow is planted by Byleth’s head, a steadying force as he finds the rhythm once again. Byleth reaches up, embraces him, a hand slipping into Yuri’s hair, pressing against the back of his head. He pulls Yuri down to him. “Put more of your weight on me.”

Yuri’s knees slip, his elbow moves, resting a bit more of his weight against Byleth as he fucks him. Byleth is a mess of tears and trembling, but the hug he keeps is sure and steady. “Heavier,” he says, pressing his heels against Yuri’s back, “all of it.” Yuri has his face buried in the crook of Byleth’s neck, unable to stop his hips from moving. He lets all his weight rest against Byleth. Byleth embraces him tightly, warmly, clenching all around him. Byleth resolves to carry this person, always. Him, and all of Yuri’s lofty goals and dreams. Once the war is over, he’d see them done.

Yuri only sees glimpses of Byleth through the haze of combat. He, Edelgard and their troops make up the tip of their formation, a spear which punches through Dimitri’s defensive lines. Yuri stays close. It’s hardly over before the next one is planned. Before the day is done, they will march on Fhirdiad. They chase Rhea back to the city. As the rain begins to fall, they descend upon a capital in flames. It’s easier to focus on what comes next. The immediate next step. For Yuri, it’s one enemy to the other. Avoiding a burning building, marching through an unscathed ally.

Rhea is waiting for them at the city center. As Yuri spies the gleaming white head of the Immaculate One towering over buildings, he’s filled with a sick sense of dread. The last time he saw that thing, Byleth was gone for five years. Breaking formation, Yuri heads off towards it in a dead sprint. He pushes away the aches and pains of battle, the fatigue which permeates every muscle. He doesn’t stop even as he hears the distinctive rattle of the Creator Sword, the scream of Rhea’s dying cry. He pushes himself to go faster, but even then – he arrives in time to watch the sword slip from Byleth’s hands.

He’d fainted before. Yuri had even carried him back to Garreg Mach from the field, studying his newly changed green hair all the while. Then, there was some warning. A wobble, before the fall. Here, Byleth drops like a stone. Edelgard cries out, dashes towards him, and manages to catch him just in time. Yuri watches this from a distance, walks forward unsteadily as Edelgard holds Byleth in her arms, presses her head against his chest. “Give him to me.” It’s a hoarse whisper from far away, but Yuri is still walking towards them. “Give him to me!” Louder this time, and Edelgard looks up, the tears shining in her eyes.

“Yuri,” she says. She opens her mouth to say something else but –

“Give him to me,” Yuri says, voice raised, the panic ringing loud and clear. He drops to his knees opposite Edelgard, his arms open wide. Carefully, gently, Edelgard places Byleth’s body in Yuri’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

Yuri has a hand at the nape of Byleth’s neck. He slowly lays him down over the cobblestone, and then Yuri puts his other hand at Byleth’s chest. He’s done this a thousand times before. He pours white magic into his body, and searches for the wound to heal. He searches, and searches, finds no injury to fix. Still, he pours out his last reserves, exhausts every last bit of energy. “You’re fine,” Yuri is telling him, “there’s nothing wrong, so you can wake up.”

“Yuri.” Fhirdiad burns around them. There will be naught but rubble soon. Ignoring Edelgard calling out to him, Yuri instead pulls Byleth’s body into his arms. His head rests lifelessly against Yuri’s shoulder, his arms limp against the ground. Yuri’s eyes are wide, unable to stop from shaking. He’s known loss. He was born in it. Somehow, this one hurts more than all the others combined. He can feel his own heartbeat pound in his ears, a drum which beats mercilessly, echoes, and his newfound emptiness wracks him utterly.

He had _promised_. Yuri should have told him last night how he wanted to have breakfast with him. Not just that breakfast, but many breakfasts. All of them. He wanted eggs, bacon, and Byleth’s hair bright in the morning sun. He doesn’t want a name. He doesn’t want a name in a notebook, because Byleth had promised. “Yuri, his hair –” This time, when Edelgard speaks, Yuri listens. He loosens his grasp just a touch, enough to see Byleth through a watery gaze. He’d forgotten how blue Byleth’s hair looked before. It spreads now, chasing every drop of green.

Yuri bends over, presses his head against Byleth’s chest. He holds his breath, banishes every single other sound. He nearly drops him at the sound of a heartbeat, loud and true, beating inside of Byleth’s ribcage. Byleth’s eyes slowly open, blue once again. Wildly looking everywhere, at first, his gaze finally settles on Yuri, his sight coming into focus on him. The smile breaks wide and free across Byleth’s face, encompassing him completely, impossibly dazzling. “Yuri-bird,” Byleth says, reaching up to touch Yuri’s cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can always find me [@jawsandbones](http://jawsandbones.tumblr.com/post/146678434099)


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